In January 1969, when I was 18 years old, I was walking along a jungle path in Ceylon and came across a beautiful, very white skinned European woman with long brown hair. She was fishing in a river, using a shred of coconut on a safety pin tied to a string. She introduced herself, “I am Jitka.” She caught a fish, built a fire, made rice and curry fish, and we all ate dinner. Jitka and I became immediate friends. Jitka always put everyone’s needs above her own. Jitka was one of a kind. She was a true Buddhist. She lived in the present moment, accepted every tragedy with grace and dignity, and never once complained no matter how terrible the situation, no matter how much she suffered. Jitka suffered greatly these last few years, with cancer surgeries, radiation, and chemotherapy. But when I would catch her on Skype, the only thing she wanted to talk about was what I was doing, how I was feeling. If someone were to ask me, “Who do you admire of anyone living or dead?” my answer would be Jitka Gunaratna. She was my best friend forever, and my sister. I’m so very sad knowing that we will not have another trip together, that the laughter is over, that the deep conversations I had with her will be no more. The only thing I can say is that through my tears is that I am grateful to have had the honor and privilege of knowing a truly great woman. She used to say to me, “Someday, if I live that long, I want to go live in a cave and be a Buddhist nun.” When she sent me the picture of her with her hair growing out from chemo, I told her, “Jitka, if anyone is a Buddhist nun, it is you.” Good-bye my dear, dear friend. I hope I see you again in another life.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Aug 2014 17:25:54 +0000
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